


Notes on a Fallen Parchment

by Rinari7



Category: Guild Wars
Genre: Gen, Possible Heart of Thorns Spoilers, Sylvari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7429035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The handwriting of a Sylvari about a year old is not the neatest or the most lovely, especially when she seems to be having a confused, combative conversation with herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A dog-eared piece of parchment slipped further out of the side pocket of her satchel as the light green Sylvari walked away from the man, her spider companion scuttling after her. Further, by the gate to the camp, the paper freed itself at last and fluttered to the ground.  
Heedless to the gate guard's call--after all, it couldn't be for her--she broke into a slow jog on her way towards Brisban, anxious to make it back to the jungle before darkness fully fell.  
  
Sighing, the guard knelt, picking up the parchment up and out of the dirt, so it wouldn't be stepped on. It was crumpled, as if it had been balled up and then carefully prised apart again, and the words were written in an obviously unpracticed hand. Some of the words were slightly smudged--it looked like it had been written with a piece of charcoal instead of the much more expensive ink--but all of it was still legible. However, this did not mean the poor guard could make head or tale of the notes--for they were obviously notes, some written at a different time from others, the handwriting more jagged and anxious.

> _“Come. Come to me. I will find you.”_
> 
> The voices have been getting stronger. I haven't… I simply ignore them now, instead of trying to fight them. It generally works. Sometimes, though, I think I've gotten so good at ignoring them, that I can't tell their quiet murmurs from those of my own mind.
> 
> _“You've always known the Dream wasn't for you. Even at the beginning, I think you knew.”_
> 
> Sometimes it's true, what they say. They're right, and that's the scary part. I want to listen, but I'm terribly afraid at the same time.
> 
> _“You've always known that neither Dream nor Nightmare was the true path.”_
> 
> They say things only I could know. And yet, why would I tell myself things I already know?
> 
> _“You only didn't know what **was** the right way.”_
> 
> And I find myself nodding at what they say. They make sense. They feel right, though I also feel it should be wrong.
> 
> _“I can show you that.”_
> 
> I am curious.
> 
> _“Come West.”_
> 
> ***
> 
> _“Daughter...”_
> 
> I am no one's daughter. The Mother Tree may have the right to call me such, but I am not her daughter, and therefore so much less anyone else's.
> 
> _“I'm glad...”_
> 
> I am not. Though I usually wander in no particular direction, save when I desire to visit someone, or divest myself of the herbs I have gathered, I have found my feet making their way west. This unnerves me.
> 
> _“...we shall...”_
> 
> Lorenth does not seem to have picked up on my agitation—and Seloane is happy enough recovering in the kennels with the fernhounds. She does not like them particularly well, but she is fed, and safe, and she knows she needs to rest.
> 
> _“...meet. Soon, I hope.”_
> 
> I feel relief the further I travel, as if I might be nearing a place I belong. The voices become stronger, harder to ignore, joining into one loud voice the further I go. I shall make my way east.
> 
> ***
> 
> _“Why?”_
> 
> The voices are quieter here in Kessex Hills, although I do not like the land. It has been poisoned, and the centaurs blight it further with their war.
> 
> _“I had thought...”_
> 
> I must think about what this means. I do not wish to go east. I am not overly fond of humans and the way they will always stick out out of a landscape.
> 
> _“You need not fear me...”_
> 
> The peace is blessed, although I feel unnerved with so few trees to shade me. I feel somehow detached, as if I am gradually leaving part of me behind. This is not my home, and yet it is now in some aspects more pleasant than my home.
> 
> ***
> 
> _“Please...”_
> 
> It is a plea. I am no one's daughter, but I do not like to deny anyone's cry for help if I can. Still, I fear, and do not trust my voices.
> 
> _“...come, daughter.”_
> 
> And come I must, if I wish to maintain my current agreement with the company. It is not too far into Brisban. I will not let them get the better of me, instill fear in me. Still, I do not relish the thought. I shall refill my waterskin before I go on my way.

With a slight shrug, the guard looked around the camp a little helplessly. That one man had been talking with the Sylvari, hadn't he? Maybe he could get it back to her. He'd go after his shift was over--in the meantime folding the parchment as carefully as he could and tucking it away.


	2. Chapter 2

With a desperate sigh, the tall, lithe Sylvari sank down to the ground. "Well, Lorenth, we aren't going to make it to the meeting," she communicated to the spider through clicks of her tongue, and the large forest spider waved its two foremost legs, clicking its mandibles together in agreement.  
  
Already the sun hung low in the sky, but the female Sylvari--at least she looked like a female, with her dark leaves long and mostly draped to one side, though her chest was mostly flat--didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave her place on the soft, verdant grass in this grotto. Instead, she set the satchel she carried over her shoulder down on the ground, furiously--almost desperately--digging a piece of parchment and a small stick of charcoal out of it.  
  
She wrote for a while, licking her lips often, tensing. The spider seemed to pick up on it, beginning to click its mandibles together and wave its forelegs agitatedly, but she didn't respond besides a few distracted "tsk"s back. The young skritt watching from a ledge above drew back with a fearful gasp.  
  
Finally, as it seemed she could not get any more tense without something happening, she stood up, crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it on the ground. It didn't fly very far, and she kicked at it a few times until it rolled far enough away to satisfy her.  
  
The spider had drawn into a corner, and was watching her warily. She went to it, clicking her tongue profusely as she knelt in front of it. Gradually, the young male spider reached out and stroked her arm gently with one of its forelegs. A broad smile broke out on her face, and she stroked its carapace gently before retreating to the very back of the grotto, draping her satchel over a branch a sufficient way off the ground.  
  
The spider mimicked her as she climbed, eventually draping herself over a sturdy branch, although the spider stayed in the trunk of the tree, curling itself up in a hollow beside its mistress.  
  
Slowly, as the sun sank and the moon climbed higher, the curious young skritt crept down from her hiding place, eyeing the Sylvari as well as the few sluggish, fat drakes that made their home in the grotto. Edging as close as she dared to the Sylvari and the spider, she stared at them for many heartbeats before noticing the ball of parchment at her feet.  
  
Snatching it up, she scurried away. "Shiny! Not shiny shiny, but shiny-smart. Hopefully shiny-smart, can learn something!" The excited words slipped past her lips as she ran, until she reassured herself with a glance behind her that she was not being followed.  
  
Slowing to a walk, she tried to un-crumple the piece of paper, un-folding it and stretching it out again. A few tears--"Oops!"--were the result, but none too major, and the writing remained legible enough, even for this young skritt--although the proximity to Skrittsburgh most likely helped.  
  
The content of the parchment had her scratching her head, though.

> _"You do not hate Nightmare."_
> 
> I felt pretty close to hate when I saw a Courtier dragging that skritt away. I could see the fear in the poor thing's eyes, and the raw pleasure in the Courtier's. She was far from being Fionghuin, and I would not let another innocent be taken away while I could stop it.
> 
> _"You could have slain her."_
> 
> I almost did. I'm sure they can recognize the intent to kill when they see it. If I did not have it--well, she would not have let him go. But she laughed as she did. Said something that puzzled and simultaneously chilled me, "You wish to fight me when you teeter on the brink yourself?"
> 
> _"It felt good, didn't it? Being prepared to kill, and knowing you could?"_
> 
> I cannot believe I have actually... I found myself conversing with "my" voice today. It was during that drowsy time between sleeping and waking... I must get as far away from here as possible, tomorrow. I dare not travel any more tonight.
> 
> _"You like it here. It feels peaceful. You feel at home. You have company."_
> 
> Lorenth seems agitated often now. I fear he senses my madness, and I will lose my most loyal companion.
> 
> _"You are not mad."_
> 
> I am! I am! There is no other explanation for it!
> 
> _"I promise you are not. Come West, and I will show you."_
> 
> N-

The scribbles became more frantic towards the end, the last word broken, unfinished, trailing off into a jagged, squiggly line.  
  
"Uhhhh! Bad, bad! Not sense-making! Useless!" And the young female spit on the paper before wadding it up into a ball again. "Only good for sleeping-on stuff, or maybe toilet-place stuff!"  
  
But the feel of the paper crinkling in her paws was nice, and so she kept the paper, crinkling and slightly un-crinkling it, until she got home, where she tossed it away by her bedside, forgotten as she slipped into a peaceful slumber.


End file.
